


Body built for the beach, do you got that ocean?

by orphan_account



Category: GP2 Series RPF
Genre: GP2 happy poly pile, M/M, Multi, the slutty glue that holds GP2 together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 18:03:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7767823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mitch takes care of his boys, someone needs to take care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Body built for the beach, do you got that ocean?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [montecarlos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/montecarlos/gifts).



> Hey bb you can probably guess who wrote this within like two seconds but HERE IS YOUR GIFT I hope you like it. <33333 You are a goddess and delight me daily.

Pierre snuggles into him, curling his hands around Mitch’s shoulders. It’s a bit odd, cuddling someone even smaller than himself but he’s got used to it, now. To working out when Pierre’s so tightly-strung on stress and ambition and politics that he’s ready to go into a hissy meltdown and  _ needs  _ to be comforted.

It never goes any further than cuddling, than Pierre nestling into his lap, resting his head on Mitch’s shoulder and sharing his bodyheat. The Frenchman seems tiny against him, all tightly coiled muscle, wound up like a springloaded mechanism. It always feels very  _ intense,  _ like there’s something more significant than a bit of snuggling going on and Mitch feels about it a lot like he feels about some sex, the same intimacy there.

He doesn’t fancy Pierre - that’s not what this is about, letting the teenager take affection from him. It’s like a cat, he reasons - Pierre will come sit on his lap when he wants to, for exactly as long as he wants to, in exactly the way he wants to and Mitch is almost just a passenger to it. 

He’s stroking Pierre’s hair gently, letting the younger man squirm in his lap as much as he wants to, even if it’s slightly painful on Mitch’s thighs. Eventually Pierre straddles him and looks at him intensely, much too close - the cat metaphor is far too apt, Pierre’s hair at all angles from Mitch’s fingers running through it.

“I like this. I like that you don’t try for more.” Pierre looks determined, like he’s been thinking about saying this for awhile. Mitch keeps eye contact with him, doesn’t stop stroking Pierre’s hair.

Mitch has sort of guessed that Pierre might not be interested in all that. Not just with him but with anyone - he’s never seen the teenager really  _ lust  _ after anyone. Mitch had thought it was just part of how tightly controlled he is, at first but now he thinks it might just be the way Pierre is.

Mitch isn’t really sure how to reply, so just cuddles Pierre to his chest. He’s glad the younger man trusts him with this.

\------

Alex is stressing out, Mitch can tell. He’s incapable of keeping it out of his face, the way his jaw tightens and his eyes narrow slightly, like he’s on high alert.

“Looking sexy today, Ace.” Alex startles out of whatever introspective funk he’d settled into, “You’ve got that brooding, posh bad boy thing going on. Don’t go all Bond villain on us, I haven’t got a suit with me.”

Alex snorts, “Mitch, you always have a suit with you, you’re the vainest man alive.”

Mitch preens, “I suppose I do always have my -” he makes his voice deliberately, pantomime-level breathy, “ _ birthday suit. _ It’s proven very popular.”

Alex laughs and grabs at him to wrestle him, “You are at least slutty enough to be Bond, Evans.”

“Are you propositioning me, Mr Lynn? You’d make a lovely Bond girl,” Mitch wriggles in Alex’s grasp, manages to pin one of his arms between them.

Alex looks at him a bit seriously, grinds up against him very lightly, the sort of thing they can just about get away with in the paddock, “Yeah, alright. You’ve seduced me.”

Mitch grins, “My room number is doubl-”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before Alex is wrestling him again, both of them trying to get their knees up against the other one’s crotch in a battle of who-gets-embarrassingly-hard-in-their-race-suit-first.

\-----

For some reason, there’s a small kiwi toy in his side of the garage. A present from his mechanics, he assumes - there aren’t any other New Zealanders on the team so it pretty much must be for him.

Mitch picks it up, squishing it between his fingers to see the beans move. Maybe from a fan? It’s very sweet, whoever it was - he finds himself smiling at it. He’s not homesick or anything - racing is home more than anywhere but it’s nice. Thoughtful. 

\------

“Just fuck him, for god’s sake, what’s the worst that can happen?”

Artem is looking at Mitch like he’s just suggested eating Sergey’s head or something, not  _ a very nice experience for all involved,  _ not least everyone who was sick of seeing them dance round each other. 

“I can’t do that.”

Mitch snorts, “Sure you can, I do it all the time.”

Artem looks, if anything, more outraged, “It’s alright for  _ you. _ ”

“It’s alright for you to, as well mate,” Mitch stops laughing, looks at Artem seriously. He knows it’s more complicated but there’s complicated and there’s he-doubts-they’ll-even-get-their-pants-off-before-coming-this-has-been-going-on-so-long.

“You don’t… you don’t with Sergey, right?” Artem looks a bit pathetic, like his heart might fall out of his mouth shortly.

“Oh fuck - no, no. Christ, he’s all yours mate, I don’t think he’d even look at anyone else,” Mitch nudges Artem’s shoulder with his, reassuringly, “Seriously dude - at least try holding hands or something?”

Artem looks less panicked at that, mumbles something that sounds like  _ “wv’edonthat.” _

“Ok mate, baby steps. But he likes you, a lot. And you like him - doesn’t have to be too much beyond that, honestly.” Mitch feels for Artem - he’d gotten over this in the heady days of hanging out with the Red Bull juniors, sneaking blow jobs off Carlos.

Artem looks placated, maybe even encouraged, “Thank you. Sorry, it’s hard.”

Mitch can’t stop himself drawing the Russian into a hug, “I know, I’m sorry. But seriously, dude, it can’t be worse.”

Artem makes a huffy noise against his shoulder, almost crouched over to lean on Mitch, hands curled at his waist. “And hey man, I’m always available for educational sex.”

Artem chuckles into his shoulder, “I probably need it.”

\------

Mitch lies back in the sheets, sweat running down him and tries to suppress a giggle. That was  _ extremely  _ fun and now Carlos is curled over next to him, Dany the other side, gazing at each other across - there was no more romantic way of putting this - Mitch’s nipples. 

He wriggles inelegantly, his arse feeling damp and their bodyheat becoming almost itchy but Carlos snuggles back into him even as Dany pulls away to let him move, so he ends up getting spooned by the Spaniard while Dany slings an arm over both of them. 

Mitch hums happily as Carlos peppers kisses across the back of his neck, Dany’s arm moving to stroke down his side. He’s not really sure how this ended up happening again, years after they’d last fallen into bed together.

It’s really good, though. Carlos is pulling him closer, their bodies pressed together in a smooth line, Carlo’s dick against his arse as Dany maneuvers to lick Mitch’s balls. He can’t help himself moaning pretty pornographically when Carlos’ hand moves down to part his legs, his cock pushing in where Mitch is already slick, barely rocking into him as Dany carries on giving him a pretty fucking expert blow job.

“Carlos,  _ no vienen,”  _ Mitch doesn’t speak Spanish but he can guess what Dany means, feeling Carlos pout against the back of his neck, nipping Mitch’s skin. The Spaniard’s movements in him get even more lazy, making Mitch whine to be fucked properly, then jolt with shock as Dany pushes a finger into him alongside Carlos’ dick, his mouth still on Mitch’s cock.

It feels obscene - and amazing - he can hear himself making the kind of noises that make Dany smile smugly on his cock and Carlos is moaning behind him, mumbling about how hot it is, how good it feels. Then Dany adds another slick finger and he’s fucking  _ wrecked  _  - it’s filthy, he can’t believe they’re doing this and he really wants to say he can’t take any more because as much as he kind of really  _ wants  _ both their cocks in him, he’s not actually genetically linked to a cave.

Dany doesn’t push it, just fucks his fingers slowly in and out of Mitch while Carlos grabs his thigh, lifts Mitch’s leg to expose him. It’s the feeling of being so debauchedly open that makes him come down Dany’s throat, whimpering. 

When Mitch comes back to himself he’s panting against Dany’s chest, the Russian having moved up to snog Carlos over Mitch’s shoulder. Mitch bites at his collarbone to try to get them both to move, let him luxuriate in peace. Instead, Dany reaches past him, down to Carlos’ arse to finger him and Carlos still hasn’t pulled out of Mitch, twitching and hard inside him and it’s way too much.

“Ffck off, shag not on top of me.” He’s slightly muffled by the salty, sweaty skin against his mouth.

Dany laughs, “We’re not on top of you. Come on, Carlos - you can come now.”

And that is pretty fucking dirty, especially the way Carlos shivers with need against him, grips Mitch tightly as Dany watches the pair of them. Having two orgasms in quick succession already means there’s no chance Mitch is getting it up again any time soon but he’s still kind of  _ interested  _ in Carlos fucking him, overstretched and oversensitised.

Dany’s clearly hitting a good spot with his fingers, making Carlos’ hips judder and it’s not really fucking, in the sense Carlos can barely move between Dany’s hand and Mitch’s body but it’s fucking intimate feeling Carlos fall apart into him. 

“Mmmrph, l-love y-ou” Carlos sounds broken in a good way, as he shakes and bites down on Mitch’s shoulder, coming into him. Mitch knows he’s not talking to him but Carlos’ hands on him feel good and he feels weirdly secure, sandwiched between the two of them. 

He reaches down to Dany’s dick, making the Russian moan and bite his lip, hiding his face in Mitch’s hair as he thrusts into Mitch’s hand. Carlos snakes a hand round to join him and Dany makes a very satisfying noise, clinging to both of them as they wank him off until he comes on Mitch’s thighs. 

They snuggle for a minute but it really is getting disgustingly damp between them and Mitch can’t hold back an “Euurgh” when he moves his leg. 

“Oh shit, sorry - I’ll get a cloth.” Dany’s springing off the bed before Mitch can even start extracting himself from Carlos.

“Thank you,” the Spaniard says quietly as he moves away, trying not to spread lube or come on the sheets, “He really needed cheering up.”

“Ah mate, you know I’m always up for it,” Mitch smiles at Carlos, kisses him chastely as Dany reappears from the bathroom with a flannel, Mitch absentmindedly tracing trails in the come on his thighs.

\------

There’s a protein shake waiting for him in the motorhome that he doesn’t remember making. And it’s strawberry, when he normally goes for the plain flavours because it’s fuel not fun.

But it’s definitely in his bottle. Maybe someone made a mistake and decided to leave it for him anyway? Oh well, he’s not complaining when he’s this fucking starving.

He knocks it back in far too few gulps, immediately feels infinitely better.

\------

He watches Stoffel watching Pierre, his gaze as lovestruck as he’s seen anyone get. 

“He doesn’t… look, you need not to push him, ok? Ever.” Mitch feels very protective of the French teenager - Stoffel’s a good guy but he’s not having him screw with Pierre.

“Wha?” Stoffel looks confused, snapped out of his reverie.

“Pierre - if you want a part of it, you have to let him decide how he wants things, let him come to you and  _ don’t  _ push for sex or I will fucking  _ end you. _ ” Stoffel swallows, looking quite intimidated. Which is hilarious given he’s almost a head and shoulders taller than Mitch.

“Ok.” the Belgian goes back to looking at Pierre, with a renewed scrutiny, “What does he like, then?”

Mitch shrugs, “I don’t know, I guess he’ll decide. But I think he does quite like you, he talks about you a lot.”

Stoffel makes a surprised, happy sort of sound and smiles, eyes still on Pierre as he heads into the Prema garage, “He’s very… I like him too.”

“Well then, that’s all good,” Mitch pats Stoffel on the shoulder, “But I am deadly serious about ending you if you fuck with him in any way.”

Stoffel nods almost frantically, “Nope, none of that. I promise.”

“Good,” Mitch considers whether to say anything else, “He likes hugs.”

Stoffel smiles at him, “Good. That’s good. Me too.”

\------

Tonio gets stressed by the whole schedule, especially any time they have sponsor stuff to do on top of everything. Mitch sympathises, it’s difficult getting pul.led in different directions by team, sponsors, race, training and  _ appearances at parties.  _ Which are ridiculous and he knows Tonio hates them with a keen passion.

“Hey, the sausage canapes are awesome” Mitch thrusts a cocktail stick laden with spicy meat at the Italian, who accepts it gratefully, nibbling at it immediately like he’s just happy to have something to do with his hands. 

“This is actually quite good,” high praise from Tonio, king of burn-grade critique.

“What did I tell you? Love a sausage party.” Tonio laughs at Mitch’s crap joke, elbows him.

“Good job you’re in motorsport, then.” And Tonio has a point, there is a distinct lack of oestrogren in the room. Mitch feels for anyone who isn’t happy fucking their way through the Paddock, really - Tatiana aside there’s not a huge selection of women to go after and they tend to be understandably picky.

“You’ve always got me, mate.” Tonio laughs again at him flirting, fondly throws an arm around Mitch’s shoulders.

“Mitch, you are the slutty glue that keeps everything together,” Mitch pulls a face at the possibly-a-compliment; that sounds like a lot of spunk.

“Gross, mate - I know you’re sentimental but you should wash that off,” he snuggles into Tonio slightly, taking advantage of their heigh difference.

“If I ever hit that, I’m framing it. Certificate of membership of the Mitch Evans Shag Club.” 

“Disgusting, dude. And it’d be Tonio’s Gay Experimentation Award, I think you’d find.” They never have, he’s about 99% sure Tonio’s straight as a fucking arrow, just enjoys cuddling with Sean a lot.

“Mmm, you’d be my pick. Need a safe pair of hands, the experienced touch, you know.” Mitch laughs - christ, he really needs to do something about his reputation. Even if it is  _ a bit  _ earned.

“How dare you, I am very pure and innocent.” Mitch punctuates his flagrant lies with running a teasing finger up Tonio’s thigh, making the Italian squirm a bit - probably going too far, really but at least Tonio’s relaxed a little. 

“Stop it, Evans - Sean’d be jealous.” Mitch takes his hand off Tonio’s thigh, gets the warning. Aside from anything else, they’re in the middle of a party.

“Yeah, don’t want to give your boyfriend any more reasons to sabotage my side of the garage.” Tonio gives him a quizzical look, like that wasn’t what he’d meant. Mitch probably shouldn’t joke about that, Sean’s a good teammate. 

The rest of the event goes by in a bit of a blur, he feels a bit off-kilter about it all for some reason, finds himself still thinking about it when he finally flops into bed.

\-----

“Stop it,” Sean grabs him from behind, arms easily looping over Mitch’s shoulders, pinning him slightly. 

“Stop what? I’m texting Pierre.” Technically, he’s working out if he needs to threaten Stoffel any more but it sounds like they’re having a nice time. Pierre’s not one for many details but he’d said Stoffel had arms like good pillows, which is pretty odd but can’t be a total mistranslation.

“I know, stop mothering everyone you idiot.” Sean pulls him backwards a bit, holds Mitch against his broad chest and Mitch can’t help but lean back, tuck his head into Sean’s neck as his teammate nuzzles into his hair. 

“I don’t  _ mother  _ people.” His phone vibrates in his hand, a Whatsapp from Alex.

“Do  _ not  _ open that, god. He needs to get himself a different booty call.” Sean bats at Mitch’s phone, forcing him to put it down or get it knocked across the room, “Come on, I ran you a bath.”

“What?” Mitch wriggles round in Sean’s grip, until he’s facing him, “Why?”

“Because you’re a fucking mess, Evans, you need to take care of yourself for once,” Sean strokes his face gently with the knuckles of his right hand and Mitch finds himself leaning into the touch. “Also I am a good flatmate. And I bought glitter bath bombs.”

Mitch laughs, “What the fuck, Sean? You’re mental.”

“And extremely fragrant. Seriously, it’s getting cold, go soak.” Mitch  _ almost  _ picks up his phone, tempted to text Carlos that his teammate’s gone actually insane in a nice way but clocks Sean’s warning look and decides he doesn’t want it thrown out the window. 

Oh well, a bath does sound quite nice really - even a fragrant, glittery one. He pulls his shirt off on his way to the bathroom, can’t suppress a happy sigh when he opens the door and feels the steam hit his skin.

It’s a split-second decision, as he tugs his sweatpants off his feet, to stick his head back round the door and say “You joining me?”

Sean lights up, pads quickly across the lounge of their flat, stripping along the way so his reply gets muffled by his hoodie “Yeah, big gay bath why not?”

“It’s you who made it glittery, dude.” Mitch sinks into the water and yeah,  _ yeah  _ that is actually really nice. Even nicer when Sean slides in behind him and puts a leg either side of Mitch, letting the smaller man lean against his chest again.

It’s cramped - London baths aren’t really made for two people to luxuriate in but it’s comfortable, the warm water lapping at them as they sit in silence. Sean’s fingers trace patterns in the glitter floating in front of Mitch and he finds himself content to watch them, hypnotic.

They’ve fucked a couple of times - Mitch kind of thinks of it as obligatory to screw his teammates at least once, it’s like breaking in new race shoes. But this is different to screwing in a hotel after a bad race. They’re at home,  _ their  _ home and it’s always been very comfortable with Sean but maybe not ‘getting a backrub in the bath’ type of specific, pleasurable comfort.

He makes a happy noise as Sean finds a knot in his shoulder, strong fingers rubbing a soothing pattern over his skin. “Honestly, Mitch, you need to stop worrying about everyone else so much - they’ll work themselves out.”

“But they’re idiots. I’m surprised Sergey can put his own trousers on.” Mitch drops his head back on Sean’s shoulder, rubs his hands down his teammate’s thighs.

“Mmm, so are you.” Sean shifts, sloshing the glitter around for a second, so he’s got his arms around Mitch, Mitch’s hands gripping onto his where they meet across his chest.

“‘m not.” Mitch lets himself drift a little, warm and relaxed.

“Are too.” Sean’s lips are against his forehead, mouthing a kiss onto Mitch’s skin that doesn’t have any intent behind it, other than possibly trying to stop Mitch thinking. 

They lie together for awhile, until the water gets cold enough to not be that pleasurable anymore, even with their shared bodyheat, and their fingertips have started pruning. It’s a bit of a mess when they get up, both sloshing the water and trying not to stand on each other but a second later they’re both wrapped in towels. 

“Netflix in bed?” Mitch nods, padding over to the table to retrieve his phone - he needs it for the alarm, he reasons, fondly annoyed at the slight guilt he feels checking Alex’s message whilst Sean’s fiddling with his own, Snapchatting Mitch’s glittery arse to Richie, no doubt.

Alex’s message just says “ _ Should I bring beer? _ ” and then “ _ Oh shit, wrong number sry _ ” so Mitch sends him an “ _ and then what? ;)”  _ and heads into Sean’s room. The Indonesian has a better bedroom telly than they do in the lounge, which is ridiculous and means they end up watching a lot of things curled up on Sean’s bed with whatever stupid snack they’ve both justified as ‘on the diet’ this week.

Sean unexpectedly spoons up around him, when they hit the bed - “I’m giving you that look, by the way.” And oh, ok - Mitch stops fiddling with the remote, abandoning the telly on the loading screen for Archer before he’s even worked out which episode they’re up to, moves round to face Sean.

“Stop thinking, Mitch.” Sean moves over him, holding Mitch down with his weight as he presses their bodies together. “Honestly, stop it - I don’t want you to do what you think I need, this is for you.”

Mitch whines - he  _ enjoys  _ getting people off, he’s good at it. But Sean’s clearly having none of his shit today, for whatever stupid reason he’s got into his head. He pulls Mitch’s dressing gown open, kissing down his chest and Mitch can guess where he’s going, writhes a bit in anticipation, wants to show Sean he wants it.

“Oh my  _ god,  _ stop it.” Sean swats at him, shifts backwards again and grabs Mitch’s knees almost forcefully, moves him into an almost-rolled-up position with his legs hooked over Sean’s shoulders and  _ ohgod,  _ licks all the way along his crack.

Mitch makes a startled, almost squeaky noise. He loves rimming, does it all the time - ever since he’d worked out it was an absolutely guaranteed way to make Carlos fall apart completely, years ago. It was the number one way to make Alex Lynn beg, all posh and debauched with Mitch’s tongue in his hole, he’d been sending Artem some really specific instructions about how to make Sergey whimper like a tiny child, the way Richie had the last time they’d fucked and Mitch had rimmed him for a long, teasing half hour. 

Fuck it, he’d had his tongue up Sean’s arse the last time they’d screwed, turning his teammate on until he’d fuck Mitch as roughly as they both needed. But Mitch hardly ever got it this way round, Sean’s wet tongue teasing along his crack, up to his balls and back, then roughly swiping over his hole, 

Sean spits on him, spreads it over Mitch’s hole with his tongue then pushes in. And fuck, Mitch knows he’s kind of  _ quite  _ slutty but even he’s surprised by how little resistance his body puts up, feeling bonelessly relaxed under Sean’s hands and mouth.

Sean fucks him slowly with his tongue, almost like a snog, his nose pressed against the bit between Mitch’s balls and crack that sends a jolt straight to his prostate when it’s rubbed. He moans wildly, cants his hips to give Sean a better angle, takes the pleasure greedily. 

“Oh god, oh  _ fuck. _ ” He feels Sean’s tongue withdraw, licking at him again as he hears a click and seconds later it’s replaced by two of Sean’s fingers. “Oh,  _ oh,  _ yeah. God yeah.”

Sean’s mouth moves to his balls, sucking on them one by one as his fingers massage Mitch’s prostate, then somehow fitting both in his mouth at once and Mitch swears he’s fucking  _ died.  _ He’s feeling wantonly open, moving his hips to fuck himself on Sean’s fingers, his teammate’s soft, wickedly filthy ministrations putting him into an almost dreamlike state.

“Please,” he tugs at Sean’s hair between his legs, his own forearm pressing on his dick and sending a shock of pleasure through him. 

“Please what?” Sean looks  _ deeply  _ content, his eyes soft and an almost shy smile playing across his face. Mitch almost throws a pillow at him.

“Please fuck my slutty arse with your fingers until I come all over myself, for fuck’s sake.” Sean looks wickedly delighted, scissors his fingers in Mitch a few times before  _ fucking finally  _ adding a third, moving them to fuck him properly.

“You want me to fuck you? Open you up and make you beg for it?” Mitch would complain that Sean’s stopped sucking his balls but he  _ loves  _ dirty talk, it’s like his number one weakness and hardly anyone  _ ever  _ does it, definitely not unless he prompts them.

“You’re such a slut for it, Mitch - you love me fucking you, don’t you? Want me to fill you up-” Mitch  _ groans,  _ throws his head back on the duvet, whimpers “-and make you come all over yourself, gonna fuck you through it Mitch, make you come so hard your balls hurt.”

And fuck, that really shouldn’t be a hot proposition but something about the way Sean says it, at the same time as he starts working Mitch’s dick, makes the Kiwi whimper and set up a steady chant of ‘ _ please’. _

“That’s it, you want me to make you come, don’t you? Make you lick it off my fingers when you’re done and-” That’s it, that’s the filth he needed, as Sean’s fingers hit the  _ best  _ spot again and he feels his balls tighten, the first spurt of come hit his chest.  _ Fuck  _ it’s so good.

Sean makes good his word, fucks him through it until he’s just arching and moaning, oversensitised. Then he crawls up Mitch’s body, brings his hand up to Mitch’s mouth, lets him lick the spunk off it while whimpering slightly, still shivering his way through some aftershocks. 

Sean kisses him, then rearranges his dressing gown so he’s properly covered. Which seems a bit pointless, given he’s literally just had his hand up Mitch’s arse but is a nice gesture. Mitch hums happily as Sean spoons back around him, fiddling with his phone while Mitch has another go with the remote, manages to get an episode playing.

A second later, he nearly has a heart attack when he’s interrupted from the pleasant fuzz of feeling post-orgasmic and cuddly by the bedroom door opening, “Jesus - who the fuck?”

“S’just Tonio, settle down.” Mitch relaxes - ok, that must have been who Sean was texting, He’s only moderately weirded out that Tonio probably just heard them having sex - after all, he does know what Sean and Mitch are like. 

“Hey Tonio,” Mitch doesn’t look round as the mattress dips behind Sean, feeling Tonio snuggle into the Indonesian. Sean and Tonio cuddling is just a fact of life, like a law of physics that he’s glad to have been brought a bit into. The bedroom must smell of lube and sex but, well, that’s Tonio’s to take or leave.

The mattress dips again, by his feet and he’s surprised to see Artem draping himself over Mitch’s legs, pulling Sergey over to sling an arm over him. And then Pierre’s suddenly right in front of Mitch, smirking as he lies on his back with one arm against Mitch, Mitch’s head pillowing on his chest as Pierre lies back into Stoffel’s lap.

It doesn’t seem plausible there’s room, especially when he hears Alex announce “I brought beer,” leading to a series of wriggles and flailed arms as the cans get distributed, the Brit just behind Mitch’s head, ruffling his hair fondly. 

“See, you’re our slutty glue. I told you.” Tonio sounds pleased and also like he’s got his face pressed into Sean’s dressing gown. Pierre pulls a face at the concept but Sean curls his arm tighter around Mitch, smooths his hand across Mitch’s chest.

“You’re one of a kind, Evans. Gotta look after you.”

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
